


Secure

by fxvixen



Series: Intentions [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Blood, Crying, Death, Demons, Emotions, Established Relationship, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Battle, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Swearing, i guess, no one actually dies but there is a character that is insinuated that they are dead, rotting bodies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:56:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10043657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fxvixen/pseuds/fxvixen
Summary: Matsukawa can still see it all, even as his droopy eyelids try to force him to sleep, alone in a bed meant for two.Their bed. The one they’ve shared for years, now with only one person in attendance.orMatsukawa desperately tries to find Takahiro, who is lost in both body and mind.





	1. Call it a Day

**Author's Note:**

> if there's anything i should have tagged but didn't, please let me know!! there's a lot of stuff here

To anyone else, the rising sun brings with it the sound of birdsong gently floating along with the breeze into the castle. They could hear the murmurs of the people discussing defensive measures in the courtyard or they might hear barks coming from the kennels, where the hunting dogs lay waiting for their breakfast. The occasional clacking of the front gate opening breaks the stillness every so often and the clang of metal rings out from the armory. 

No matter what he does, every clang shakes Matsukawa to the core. The grinding of metal on metal brings with it the image of dented armor. Every scream of metal twisting into place shows claws between the plates designed to protect, a set of teeth tearing at the guard of an arm. 

Every sound from the armory shifts into an uproar of shouting, yelling, screaming, and the cries of anguish from his fellow soldiers. 

The harrowing shrieking of the beasts that had risen straight from hell to crush them in the place they dared to defend. 

If he closes his eyes, he can see blood flying, blood squirting, blood pooling, blood spraying across his face and dripping into his eyes. He can taste how it dripped into his mouth, making him gag and forcing him to spit it out. Matsukawa can still see it all, even as his droopy eyelids try to force him to sleep, alone in a bed meant for two. 

Their bed. The one they’ve shared for years, now with only one person in attendance. 

All Matsukawa can think is:

_ Takahiro... Takahiro... Takahiro... Where are you Hiro? Takahiro... I need to find you… Takahiro _

But right now he can’t move. Right now he’s bone dead. 

They’ve been searching all night in vain. Matsukawa desperately wishes that he had waited until morning to search, so he could actually see what he was doing, where he’d been, where he still needed to go. He’d wasted all his energy searching in conditions that seemed set-up for failure. 

_ Takahiro… god, Takahiro _

The love of his life, the only thing that matters right now, the only thing he wants is Takahiro. 

But Takahiro is nowhere to be found. 

Takahiro gives him strength; he’s the one who gives him his confidence. Matsukawa prides himself on being fairly confident, and definitely more so than Hiro.

But that’s the thing, Matsukawa can’t be more confident than him if he doesn’t have him to compare to right now. Everything is compared to him. His sense of humor is more tasteful than Takahiro’s. He’s taller than Takahiro. He doesn’t have as good as eyes as Takahiro, but it’s close. 

Their friends have always commented that sometimes it’s hard to tell them apart, even though they look nothing alike, because their personalities are so similar. They’ve always known better, though. Growing up together may have led to similar personalities, but they also know each other front to back and sideways. They know their difference and their strengths and how they complement and make up for what the other lacks.   

Takahiro fills in Matsukawa’s gaps like no one ever could, like no one else will ever understand. Without him, he feels like he’s left wandering in an infinite nothingness, unsure of where to go, and nothing to go off of.  

In Matsukawa’s eyes, Takahiro sets a standard no one will ever match. Honestly, no one should even try. 

_ God _ , he loves that adorable goof. 

He’s got to find him. He’s got to bring him home, to their bed, so they can share it again. Maybe then, they’ll both listen to the clang of the armory and try to laugh about it. They’ll try to say it sounds like… like two people… two people… 

Matsukawa can’t even think of a joke without Takahiro there to bounce ideas off of. He lets out something that sounds horribly like a sob, but his throat is dry and he’s too tired to properly cry. Matsukawa wants Takahiro there to cuddle and bury his face in and pretend that he can’t hear or see or taste or smell anything but Takahiro. 

He’s got to bring him home.

Matsukawa would probably walk off a cliff in the state he’s in right now, though, and not even notice. Maybe he wouldn’t even care...

But for now, no more thought. 

Matsukawa falls into the arms of sleep as the morning light shifts to grace the bedroom with its presence, a reminder of happier days.

 

* * *

Matsukawa wakes in the sunlight of the evening, and he immediately lets out a sob because it means they haven’t found him yet. They would have woken him. 

The bed is cool and the sheets are empty. 

Takahiro.  _ Takahiro _ .

Matsukawa is out of the bed in seconds, blearily getting dressed. He’s aware of the fact that he’s filthy still; his grimy skin under the clean clothes he puts on would be annoying any other day. He decides to opt out of armor for speed and rationalizes this over the fact that his people have been out there flushing out any remaining demons all night and all day. 

He’ll probably be fine. 

If he’s not, well… 

Matsukawa rushes down the staircase and out the front door. He debates skipping the armory entirely, but not wearing his armor is stupid enough, he at least needs his sword to defend himself. Matsukawa skids in and sweeps up his sword and scabbard, quickly fastening it to his belt even as he runs back out the doorway. He runs until he’s past the gates, past fellow soldiers carrying the wounded and dead to the castle, past the back lines, where in any normal situation, the king, his advisors, and his royal guard would have stayed throughout most of the battle, to plan and protect, he and Takahiro included. 

This hadn’t exactly been what you’d call a normal situation. 

Matsukawa runs until all he can feel is his sword slapping his leg; he’s not even halfway across the battlefield, but he’s past where the bodies have started. Matsukawa focuses on the slap of his sword so he doesn’t have to smell the rot of the bodies, if you can call them that, littering the ground he runs over. 

Matsukawa reaches a group of the guard, and almost frantically runs by them, searching, but also hoping to get away. He needs to get away from here, this place that took so much from him. He stops in front of the one directing them:

It’s Kunimi. His eyes are sunken in, and his chest plate is spattered with blood. A plate of armor has been ripped off the front of his thigh, and claw marks mar his clothes, but there’s no blood to be seen. It looks like part of his long hair got ripped out. 

It also looks like he doesn’t give a damn.  

Matsukawa’s never seen Kunimi look this tired, but then again, he’d never seen Kunimi fight as viciously as he did yesterday. Just as they were all beginning to lose hope, Kunimi somehow managed to rally together a small group that still believed. That belief had spread with every step forward they took, Kunimi in the lead, as the fires of hell the demons had arisen from reflected in his eyes. It was as though he had been mocking and daring them to continue to take what was his. 

Jokes aside, Matsukawa had never been more glad to have Kunimi on his side in his life. 

_ Takahiro _

He’s got to find him. 

“Kunimi.”

Kunimi finishes directing a group of three toward the treeline, then turns to Matsukawa. 

“Has there been anything?”

Kunimi looks at him with his dead eyes, flickering with the barest hint of something that might resemble sadness if he had more emotional strength at the moment. “We haven’t seen anything of Hanamaki-san.” 

“Oh.” Matsukawa knew of course. Of course they would have told him, bad or good, if they found him. It still squeezes his heart to think Takahiro is just… laying out there, bleeding or in pain. 

Or… worse. 

The longer it takes to find him, the more solid that despairing thought becomes. 

_ Takahiro… Where are you?... I need you, Takahiro…. Dear god, please…. Come home to me…. _

“We’ve looked over the bodies all over the hill and down to the bottom where the... trench... was. All the wounded that were out in the open have been taken back and now we’re collecting the dead.” 

With every word, Matsukawa can feel his feet getting heavier, his lungs tightening, his heart being ground to nothing. 

“I’ve just sent those three to search in the trees along the path where the Trickster group ran their route.” 

Matsukawa snaps to attention. 

_ Takahiro! _

The trickster division had run along in the forest, hitting the demons and leading small groups of them into the trees to be ambushed where they had less room to use their wings and they had hoped they would be afraid to use their fire. 

“Kyoutani is still missing, too.”

Matsukawa feels his sorrow at that statement be extinguished with loathing. Kunimi is hinting that Yahaba is struggling, too, but Matsukawa couldn’t care  _ less _ about what Yahaba is feeling. 

_ “Matsukawa-san, don’t!” Yahaba’s face books no room for argument.  _

He doesn’t give a single  _ damn _ . 

_ “They can handle themselves. They’re soldiers, they don’t need you running in to get yourself killed. You’re needed here.”  _

Matsukawa squares his shoulders. “I’m going.”

Kunimi’s eyes alight with fire. 

“Find them.”

 

* * *

 

The evening sunlight disappears as Matsukawa runs into the trees. He has to stop and pick his way through when he reaches the trail, tripping his way down the path where there are less bodies, but more plants and roots.

Until there are  _ more _ bodies. 

Matsukawa is forced to stop as more demon bodies than he can even fathom are piled on top of each other, strewn across the path and throughout the trees with severed limbs still stuck to the bark with their claws. 

Matsukawa sees the three sent here to look picking slowly through the rotting corpses of the undead ahead of him, looking for anyone that may still be alive. 

He nods at them as he approaches, but continues past them, having a feeling Takahiro would be further in, in the heat thick of the fight. 

_ Takahiro… Where are you?... Takahiro _

As he heads deeper in, the last traces of the evening sunlight disappears behind the leaves of the trees. Matsukawa carefully picks his way through pile of bodies after pile of bodies, searching. The trees seem to be bending over in the shadowy light, branches hanging down to latch onto his clothes and tear at him as these very bodies would if they rose up.

A chill runs up his spine at the thought of one of the demons suddenly jumping up and rushing him. Matsukawa fingers the hilt of his sword. 

Something sharp taps his back and he freezes.

“Don’t. Move.” 

At the sound of the voice, Matsukawa relaxes the tiniest bit knowing it’s not a demon. He also wants to roll his eyes a little bit, because who actually moves when they’ve got a sword against their unarmed back?

The person slowly circles around in front of him, sword pointed. 

Matsukawa’s stomach almost leaves him; it’s probably a good thing he hasn’t eaten yet. 

He’d like to be able to say that the person in front of him is a soldier from their military, but honestly he can’t tell. The armor looks like theirs, but it’s caked in so much blood and mud that he couldn’t say for sure. The soldier had to have fallen down many times, because pieces of gore and leaves are stuck in the dried blood and earth. There’s even a small branch stuck to his leg. Not one single square centimeter of metal shows through. 

“Good god,” Matsukawa breathes. 

The soldier looks at him and tilts his head. He lowers his sword and reaches for his helmet. Matsukawa watches as he struggles to get it off, the mud having almost fused it to his neckpiece. He finally manages to get it off and Matsukawa looks down into the wide terrified eyes of Kyoutani. 

“Matsukawa-san.” His voice sounds absolutely wrecked, like he’s been screaming for hours upon hours, and he probably was. His face is only slightly better than his armor was, the blood and everything else seeming to have leaked through his faceguard. “Did… did we win? There… They just kept coming, I- I tried my best, but there were so many.  I don’t know… We couldn’t see what was going on. There were  _ so many _ .” 

He sounds lost and hopeful at the same time, like he can’t believe that there might actually be an end. Matsukawa cannot possibly believe what could have happened to him to get this reaction, for him to sound this broken. 

“Yeah,” he chokes out the response. “Yeah, Kyoutani we won. Everything’s alright, you don’t have to fight anymore.” Matsukawa would like to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but there’s so much blood. 

Kyoutani looks like he’s not sure he can believe him, like there’s a trick up Matsukawa’s sleeve and he’s going to have to keep fighting into tonight as well. Matsukawa cannot imagine just how tired he is, if he’s been on his guard for two days now. As much as Matsukawa wants to look for Hiro, he can’t just leave Kyoutani here. Not in this state. 

“We thought we heard the end of the battle…” 

Matsukawa tries to stop him, “You don’t have to tell me now, Kyou, let’s get you–” but he doesn’t seem to hear, just stares into the darkness. 

“We heard a cheer, like we won. And they hesitated for a moment, so we thought they were all drawing back.” Kyoutani starts shaking, and looks at Matsukawa with eyes that will probably haunt his nightmares. “But then– then they multiplied. They came at us all night long and they focused on anyone who screamed or made loud noises. I think so we couldn’t call for help. They didn’t seem to care if they lived or died, but we… there were so  _ many _ .” 

They came at them all night long.  _ All night long _ . While Matsukawa had been crazily searching the hill for Takahiro, they’d been being ambushed all… night… long….

_ Takahiro… I’m so sorry, Takahiro... _

“But, why didn’t you guys come back to the hill and join up like you were supposed to?” 

Kyoutani looks confused for a long moment, like he’s not sure about the words coming out of Matsukawa’s mouth. “Uh… we were going to, but Hanamaki-san thought one more luer would do the trick. He said, ‘They need all the help they can get…’” He trails off, and Matsukawa’s heart breaks as he hears the words taunting in his mind. “And then they came. They couldn’t move very well in the trees, but neither could we, and they had the outside edge. They just… kept shoving us back. We got stuck away from the hill.” 

Matsukawa is afraid to ask, but it’s the only question that matters. “Is Takahiro okay?” It comes out in a desperate rush, and Kyoutani gives him that confused, wide-eyed look again. “Takahiro.” Matsukawa barely keeps from shaking him. “Where is he?” 

“Oh.” Kyoutani pauses. “He’s over here.” 

There’s no emotion, just that same grating tone. Matsukawa has no idea what to think, but he follows, desperate for the answer. 

_ Takahiro… please come home to me… Takahiro I need you…. _

He follows Kyoutani away from the path for several minutes. 

They head around a large outcropping and suddenly there he is. 

_ Takahiro! _

Takahiro is standing propped against the back of the rocks, caked in just as much mud and blood as Kyoutani, but his helmet is nowhere to be seen. He’s pointing his dagger at them as they approach, the same wild look in his eyes as Kyoutani. At the sight of Matsukawa, his body seems to compress into himself. 

With the hunch of Takahiro’s shoulders and the bow of his head, everything becomes clear to Matsukawa. He feels a sense of purpose almost burn through him. Takahiro has always filled the holes in him, and just the sight of him now is no different, already knitting him back together. 

He’s found his way; he knows where to go.  

Matsukawa brushes past a dazed Kyoutani and moves to cup Takahiro’s face between his hands. He rests their foreheads together for the briefest of moments, delighting in the touch despite the blood and grime coating them. The feeling of Takahiro’s skin touching his trickles through him, and gives him back what he wasn’t sure was missing. 

Then he moves back and sweeps a glance over all of him. 

Takahiro has claw marks through most of his armor. The smith will probably want to scrap it at this point, rather than try to fuse it back together. There’s blood coating him of course, but without taking off his armor, it’s hard to tell what’s his and what came from the demons. Otherwise, he looks like he’ll survive long enough to make it to the castle. 

Matsukawa meets his eyes, searching for any hint of how he’s feeling. “Are you okay?” 

He finds dread and weariness in Takahiro’s eyes. “I think my leg is broken. I definitely can’t walk. Kyou’s been protecting me while I lean uselessly against this  _ fucking _ rock.” A hint of the usual spark lights Takahiro’s eyes with anger, but then it flickers out. 

Matsukawa glances down as his leg, but he still won’t be able to see the damage until they get him out of his armor. “Can you get back to the castle?” 

Takahiro stares at him with dead eyes. “If I could, don’t you think I would have already?” The end of his question rises in tone farther than it should, betraying his inner panic. 

Matsukawa can’t wait to get him out of his rot-ridden clothes and cuddle him close for hours, maybe into days. He wants to hold Takahiro tight and pretend they can become one person if he tries hard enough. 

But first thing’s first. 

“Alright,” Matsukawa smiles gently at him, relief finally crashing through him. “I’ll carry you this once, but it’s the only time, you hear?” 

Takahiro huffs, looking away. “Asshole.” 

Matsukawa almost grins. “I’m not carrying you in your armor though. How much of it can you get off?” 

“I don’t know...” 

Matsukawa watches his face transform into That Look when he looks down at himself. 

“Don’t.”

Takahiro looks up, eyes narrowed and full of spite. “What?”

Matsukawa glares at him. “You know what, dickhead. I can  _ see _ your face, you know. You don’t get to feel bad about yourself right now. You’re wounded and exhausted, so suck it up and admit you can’t do something because of those things, not because you’re bad at it.” 

He glares off into the trees and mumbles, “Don’t tell me what to do.” 

Matsukawa steps forward and reaches to slip Takahiro’s gauntlets off. “I would kiss your nose, but you’re absolutely disgusting right now. You’re lucky you’re cute even when you’re covered in guts.”

Matsukawa can’t see his blush underneath the mud, but he’s sure it’s there. 

Slowly and gently, Matsukawa unbuckles and slips off the parts of Takahiro’s armor. Every crack seems to have had the filth seep through it, leaving his underclothes just as dirty. He motions Kyoutani over to help with the legs. He’d been standing there staring off into space, whether to give them some space or because he’s in shock, Matsukawa can’t tell.

Takahiro groans and shifts to lean against Kyoutani while they free his good leg and then they stare at the second one. 

“Do you think it’s okay to take it off? I know you’re not supposed to move injuries… or something.” 

Kyoutani’s response gains back some of his usual snap. “Do I look like a medic to you?”

Matsukawa rolls his eyes. “That’s why I asked what you  _ thought _ , idiot.”

Kyoutani barely gives a growl in response. 

Matsukawa looks at Takahiro. “What do you want? You wanna keep it on or?” 

“Uh...I think– I want my boot off, but leave the rest.” His face twists talking about it. 

They ease off his boot while he pants heavily and grits his teeth against the pain. Without a pause, Matsukawa scoops him up, causing Takahiro to let out a sharp yell as his leg is jolted and swung. Matsukawa starts off toward the castle immediately, wanting to get his leg attention as soon as possible. 

“Kyoutani,” Takahiro gasps out. “ Get the others.” 

“What others?” Matsukawa hears Kyoutani disappear in the opposite direction as he backtracks to the trail.

“There were a couple others that– nnnnnn, uh, they were behind another cropping farther out. We got separated when my leg snapped, and I had to stay there.  _ Jesus _ , can you walk any bouncier?”

“Yeah, let me just wait here while they pave the path through the  _ woods _ .”

“Fuck off.” 

“I love you, too.” As soon as the statement leave his lips, Matsukawa wants to repeat it. He wants to shake Takahiro and make sure he knows. He wants to make a gross and disgustingly romantic gesture and make sure everyone knows how important this man is to him. 

“Hey, Issei?” 

Now isn’t the time for that though. 

Matsukawa croons at him. “Shhh, you can tell me your lovey-dovey words when we get you cleaned up, yeah?” He sidesteps three demons stuck together with a spear through all three of them to step onto the path. 

“Okay.” 

Takahiro leans his forehead against his shoulder, and takes deep breaths. 

“You aren’t exactly fresh either.” 

“Uh-huh, shut the fuck up, you baby.”

 

* * *

 

The evening light has disappeared into night when Matsukawa carries him onto the hill, and Takahiro has passed out. His arms are about to fall off, but luckily the soldiers clearing the bodies have stretchers and Matsukawa lays him down on one. They lift Takahiro up and Matsukawa walks next to him, gripping at his limp hand. 

Kunimi jogs over to walk beside him. “Was there anyone else?” 

Matsukawa knows he’s looking for news on Kyoutani. None of them would want to see Yahaba without him. 

“Yeah, Kyou’s bringing a group.” 

Kunimi nods without emotion, but a tightness releases in his body. “I’ll ride ahead and let them know. My shift is done out here anyway.” 

Another soldier hands him the reins of his horse, and Kunimi swings up and rides off. 

They’re rushed to a medic as soon as they pass through the front gate. The medic lets Matsukawa stay in the room while he sets to work on disinfecting everything. Takahiro drifts in and out of consciousness while the doctor works on him, and he’s jerked awake with a shout when the bone is set. 

When he’s done with Takahiro, the medic insists on stitching the cut across Matsukawa’s chin that he forgot about. 

“Now, I’ve done what I can for his injuries for now, but you’ll _ both _ want to go see a mage as soon as possible after you’ve gotten some sleep, tomorrow morning preferably. They can strengthen the ointment I’ve put on the cuts and look for signs of infection as well as speed up the healing process of Hanamaki-san’s leg.” 

When the medic is done with his face, Matsukawa gathers his strength and carries Takahiro up the stairs to their room. He props him in one of the chairs at their small table and strips him. Then he fetches some water and a cloth before stripping himself. 

Matsukawa wets the cloth and starts to wipe Takahiro down first, taking care not to get the bandages super wet. The water in the bucket quickly gets murky so Matsukawa refills it. He swipes the cloth along Takahiro’s body, washing away the dirt and the blood and hopefully everything else. 

Takahiro rouses when Matsukawa starts in on his face, slowly brushing both cheeks and under his chin. He wipes at his eyes several times, and Takahiro tries to look at him between, so tired that he doesn’t recognize that he should just keep them closed. When he’s done with his face, Matsukawa moves the bucket behind the chair and guides Takahiro’s head back, so he can pour handfuls of water through his hair. He digs his fingers in and combs through it to try to get it as clean as he can without soap. Takahiro groans at the pressure on his head, and Matsukawa smiles. 

“Feel good?”

“Hn… don’t ever stop.” 

Matsukawa snickers at him. “I could make a sex joke, but I won’t take advantage of your condition.” 

Takahiro just groans again. 

He makes one final comb through Takahiro’s hair and then sets to work on quickly wiping himself down as well. He has to get more water again, but he stays by the bath and finishes quickly. 

He comes back out expecting Takahiro to have fallen back asleep, but he’s waiting for him. He raises his arms and gives Matsukawa a small lopsided grin. 

Matsukawa returns it and picks Takahiro up to bring him to the bed. He doesn’t set Takahiro down right away, burying his face in his neck, and breathing in. Takahiro still smells kind of like the battle if Matsukawa is honest, but his neck feels warm and nice and soft against Matsukawa’s face. 

_ Takahiro _

A tug on his hair brings Matsukawa back to the present and he lays Takahiro down on the bed before crawling over him, trying not to jostle the bed too much. Matsukawa wraps his arms around him and pulls him close, carefully sliding a leg between his and resting his cheek against the top of Takahiro’s head. 

His lips move against Matsukawa’s collarbone. “Don’t think I didn’t see what the sheets look like. There’s dirt all over them. You’re changing them tomorrow.” 

“Takahiro.” The name flows out quietly; it’s the first he’s said it since he found him. It fills Matsukawa with a warm delight. 

“Issei,” he whispers. 

At the sound of his name, Matsukawa wants to cry; he wants to sob that Takahiro is here, with him, and not out somewhere in the unknown. He’s with him in their bed again, when this morning he wasn’t. The sheets seem warmer and more inviting now, pulling him in and asking them both to stay, as it if, too, had been lonely. 

“Yeah, baby.” 

“I was so scared.” Takahiro’s voice shakes. “I was supposed to lead them, but there was nowhere to lead them to. There was nothing to do but try not to die. So many of us died.” 

Matsukawa rubs a hand across his back, trying to ground himself as well as Takahiro. His own fear and the remembered panic of not being able to find him rising up. He shudders, so Matsukawa wraps their blanket tight around them, pulling Takahiro as close as he can. 

“It’ll be alright. Everything’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. We can hash it out tomorrow and be drippy and emotional and everything together, okay? We can prop your leg up and take a real bath and be nice and clean. Then I’ll kiss you and hold you so tight, like right now, and we’ll be together. How about that, baby? You wanna sleep for me? And we can do that stuff tomorrow, yeah?” 

“...yeah.” 

“Alright.” He puts his lips to Takahiro’s forehead. “I love you.” 

There’s a small pause where Matsukawa knows something is running through his mind, he lets it go for now. 

“I love you, too, Issei.” Takahiro tightens his arms around Matsukawa. “I love you, too.”

It’s the last sound of the day for Matsukawa.

And in the morning, maybe they'll wake up and make fun of the clangs coming from the armory together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will be at least a second chapter to this at some point, maybe more if i feel so inclined. special thanks to liv for looking through it for me even when they weren't feeling good, ily


	2. Call it a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Hanamaki wants to do is go back to their bed and pretend he hasn’t woken up yet, pretend that he doesn’t know someone he cares about is dead and their friend did it. He wants to sleep but his leg is killing him and his mind is full of so many things that he can’t put it all together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i got all the tags but lmk if i missed anything

Burning, his muscles are _burning_.

He has stood his ground for as long as he could, but there are too many. Everywhere. They are everywhere.

His arms and sword hang at his sides but Hanamaki pushes his legs to keep moving even though the weight of the armour drags at him. Kyoutani and the others are pulling away but there’s nothing he can do.

Darkness swirls around him, claws rip as his heels and Hanamaki knows they’re about to be on him. There’s no escape; running won’t help.

Still the others pull away and Hanamaki cries out for help, hoping against hope that someone will hear him but they don’t. They keep running. Hanamaki pushes his legs in one last burst but there’s no use; he has nothing left in him.

He trips on something he can’t see. He goes down, hands and face in the mud.

They’re on him and the darkness descends from every direction.

His legs aren’t the only thing burning anymore. Hanamaki screams.

 

* * *

 

Hanamaki’s scream turns into a whimper as he’s shaken awake. His eyes fly open and he flails, but there’s something holding him down.

“Whoa! Takahiro, shhh, it’s okay!” Matsukawa comes into view, trying to help him out of the net of blankets. “It’s okay, Hiro.”

Hanamaki’s heart races and while he recognizes that he’s in his room in the castle, his body still thinks he’s _out there_. His heart is racing and his lungs can’t seem to get enough air. He sucks in breaths in an attempt to get enough air to think straight again. Hanamaki finally manages to get out of the blankets and the cool morning air feels so good on his flushed skin.

“Ssshhh, it’s okay, baby.” Matsukawa doesn’t try to touch him, but opens his arms when Hanamaki turns to look at him. “Come here.”

Matsukawa. _Issei._ He’s safety; he’s home. Hanamaki flings himself into his arms and wraps his arms around him tight.

“There we go.” Matsukawa squeezes him back and presses their cheeks together. “You’re home with me. You’re safe right now. I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

“ _Issei_.” Hanamaki breathes. He’s not sure what else to say to show he’s listening, but Hanamaki needs Matsukawa to know how much he means to him, how much he loves him. Hanamaki loves him and he’s not sure when the chance to tell him will be ripped from him.

“Hush, Hiro. Lay down with me.”

Hanamaki allows Matsukawa to lower them both back down the mattress and then Hanamaki tries his damnedest to hold him so tight they fuse into one person. He ends up with his face buried in Matsukawa’s shoulder, and he breathes him in deep. The smell reminds Hanamaki of what they said last night. They both reek and need a bath desperately but they hadn’t taken one last night because they had been so tired from fighting the…

Hanamaki shudders, but forces himself to finish the thought, surrounded by Matsukawa’s strong and solid body.

… demons.

Matsukawa is murmuring things to him. “I love you, sweetheart. God, I love you. I never want to let you out of my sight again. I love your pretty face and your chest against mine. I love you even though you’re sweaty and dirty still. I just love holding you like this. Please. I don’t know who I’m talking to, but please. Never take him away from me again. Never. I love you so much, and your arms feel like heaven…”

They lay there for a long while. Hanamaki gradually calms down enough to loosen his grip, but he doesn’t want to, so he doesn’t.

Matsukawa’s talking slows down, too, until he’s just breathing into Hanamaki’s hair.

A while later Matsukawa murmurs, “We need to get up. You need to get your leg looked at.”

Hanamaki tries to bury his face in Matsukawa further. “No.”

Matsukawa’s chest shakes against him with laughter. “Yes, Hiro. Let’s go. You don’t want your leg to be stuck like that do you?”

A long groan is the only response Hanamaki deigns to give him, but he slowly starts to detach and move away, painful as the thought of being separated is.

Matsukawa helps Hanamaki shuffle off the bed and stand up. Hanamaki grits his teeth when he reflexively tries to set his weight on both of his feet and leans heavily on Matsukawa. He takes a few shuffling steps. Once they get moving, it’s not that bad.

No, Hanamaki has a different problem.

“Issei. Issei, I’ve gotta pee right now. _Right now_.” Hanamaki squeezes his arm and tries to convey just how dire the need is.

“Okay.” Matsukawa laughs, leading Hanamaki forward slowly with a hand on his back to steady him. “I’ll get you there, keep your pants on, at least for a few more seconds.” He laughs again.

“This isn’t going to be funny when I start peeing and I rub up against you for revenge.”

“Is it going to be a humping rubbing? I could get behind that.”

“Just get me there! I don’t actually want piss running down my leg, Issei!”

Matsukawa leads him as quick as he can to the washroom connected to their room and helps him get his pants down with only minor struggling but a lot of pain in his leg.

The second he’s finished, Matsukawa starts snickering.

Hanamaki scowls. “Shut the fuck up.”

“You- you were freaking out about _having to take a piss_ , Hiro.” Matsukawa grins at him, taking Hanamaki’s arm over his shoulders again. “I think you might be a little on edge.”

“Geeze, do you _think_?” Matsukawa just responds with a small smile.

They start their walk out of the washroom a lot slower than they went in, and it’s a lot less painful.

Surprisingly, Matsukawa doesn’t lead him out of the room. He leads him to sit at their little table. There’s dirt in the chair from where he sat yesterday, but it’s not really as if he’s any cleaner so Hanamaki sits down.

Matsukawa sits across the table and just looks at him, smile slowly sliding from his face into a look of concern.

It makes Hanamaki feel antsy, like this is going to be some kind of interrogation.

“What?” he snaps.

Matsukawa raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re giving me that face. Like you think something’s wrong with me.”

“Is something wrong?”

Hanamaki wants to say no but the itch under his skin tells him that answer is not quite right. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to talk about anything?”

Hanamaki’s good leg starts bouncing, his head starts spinning. “Just… tell me about what happened.”

Matsukawa looks confused, and repeats, “What happened?”

Hanamaki gestures angrily. “Yesterday! At the battle! How did everything end?”

Matsukawa pauses. He opens his mouth and closes it. Then, quietly, he forces out a simple, “Well… he did it.”

Hanamaki frowns, not sure he heard correctly. “He… did it?”

Matsukawa closes his eyes and deliberately releases his hands from the fists they have formed on the tabletop. “Yes.”

Hanamaki physically feels all the blood drain from his face. “He’s… dead?”

“Yeah.”

Hanamaki squeezes his hands against his cheeks, trying to stop the darkness from coming in at the thought of their best friend killing the love of his life.

“I should have been there.”

“Hiro.”

“We should have been able to get back.”

“ _Hiro._ ”

“It was the plan. We should have tried harder to stick to it.”

“There’s nothing more you could have done.”

“There had to have been more that I could have done! There had…”

Hanamaki wilts.

“There were just so many.” He takes a shaky breath. “I was so afraid.”

Matsukawa moves from his chair and comes to kneel in front of him. His face is filled with pain and regret, and Hanamaki wishes neither one of them felt that way.

“I’m so sorry, Takahiro. If I had known you were still in the forest, _nothing_ could have stopped me from reaching you. I– I thought you were on the hill. We all thought you had come back to the hill.”

“How could you think that when you never _saw_ any of us!”

“I– I _did_ see one of you! I definitely saw Watari come hurtling from the trees. I just assumed the rest of you followed, and I didn’t exactly have time to check since I was trying not to get my face clawed off.” Hanamaki looks away, scowling. Matsukawa just brings his face back in with gentle tug on his jaw. “Listen. Hiro. I looked for you the _moment_ the battle was over. I searched all over the hillside for hours, telling everyone else to fuck themselves because I wasn’t going to leave the battleground until I found you.”

Something about that niggles at the back of Hanamaki’s mind; something about that is wrong.

Matsukawa looks deep into his eyes. “Hiro, I didn’t stop searching until I almost _passed out_ yesterday morning and then Kindaichi had to drag me back to my bed to sleep for a couple hours before–”

“Wait.” Hanamaki interrupts.

Matsukawa immediately stops.

Hanamaki’s brain is scrambled and there’s too many feelings and thoughts happening, but he puzzles through what’s bothering him.

Then… everything is icily clear.

“You…” Hanamaki speaks haltingly, hoping he’s wrong. “You said… you looked for me for hours after the battle… and Kindaichi made you stop at dawn.”

Matsukawa nods in confirmation, frowning.

The cold chill of fear lances through Hanamaki. “You searched for hours. At night.”

Matsukawa nods again. “Yes, Hiro, I said–”

“You mean, during the night. For hours.” Hanamaki can feel his tone become vicious, but there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He bites out his words. “You all were searching for us on the hill when we were all back in the _fucking_ trees running for our lives and getting slaughtered? Some of you went and got some sleep while we were cornered on every fucking side, some soldiers crying out and _screaming_ for their loved ones. Are you kidding me?”

“Takahiro–”

Hanamaki doesn’t want a damn word. “Are you telling me, _Issei_ , that when we heard the triumphant war cry before everything got so much fucking worse… that was you guys supposedly _winning the goddamn fight? ”_

Matsukawa stares at him. Hanamaki can see the answer written all over him.

Hanamaki hisses and tries to push Matsukawa away. “ _Are you kidding me? ”_

Matsukawa lets himself be pushed and leans back enough so he’s not touching Hanamaki but he doesn’t go any further. Hanamaki would get up and leave the damn room if not for his stupid bum leg. He settles for crossing his arms and glaring as hard as he can.

Matsukawa just regards Hanamaki carefully, taking in his face, surely flushed with anger, eyes blazing.

Then he takes a deep breath. If Hanamaki cared to listen, he might notice that it is a shaky breath.

“Alright, let it out.”

Hanamaki sneers at him. “Let _what_ out.”

Matsukawa sighs and repositions himself to sit on the ground instead of kneeling. He leans back on his hands, looking up at Hanamaki in the chair. “Just, whatever it is that you need to say.”

Hanamaki knows this. He knows this tactic. Matsukawa uses it all the time, but for the life of him, Hanamaki cannot remember _why_.

He doesn’t want to give Matsukawa the satisfaction of an answer, let alone the answer that he wants. Not when Hanamaki can still feel the claws catching in his armor, not when he pled for someone to come find them, not when all he wanted was for Matsukawa or literally _anyone_ to show up and help them.

More emotions that Hanamaki can’t make sense of. Fear. Betrayal. Anger. Hurt. Frustration. On top of all that, a layer of pain and exhaustion. He can’t focus.

“Takahiro.”

The pressure builds in Hanamaki’s head and he clutches at it, closing his eyes too, in the hope that if he doesn’t look at Matsukawa, everything will stop spinning or at least slow down.

“Please, Hiro. Let it out.”

Matsukawa’s voice attempts to be soothing but it’s just the last straw for Hanamaki.

Ripping his hands away from his head, Hanamaki spits, “ _You just fucking left us there!_ ”

Matsukawa flinches, but doesn’t move away or try to speak yet.

“We were out there outnumbered and _dying_ and none of you came for us. Some of you went home and _slept_ while soldiers bled out speared on the claws of those things!” Hanamaki leans forward in his chair, gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg and the pain in his thoughts. “We were screaming and terrified and begging for someone to help us and help was _right there_ but. _It. Never. Came._ ”

Matsukawa moves to reach out. “I’m so so–”

Hanamaki recoils, but still throws words at him. “You _left_ me there, Issei!” Hanamaki chokes on his name. “You– you _left_ me there.”

Before Hanamaki has consciously recognized it, the anger has dissipated and all that’s left is the pain and fear he can taste in the tears that stream down his face.

Matsukawa’s face crumples at his words, closing his eyes tightly against the words and causing a tear to fall down his own cheek. Hanamaki tells himself he doesn’t care; he doesn’t care right now because he was left behind. He was forgotten.

“Takahiro.” Matsukawa’s voice sounds hoarse and the words forced. “You have to know–”

“I don’t care.” Hanamaki spits with a slash of bitterness, crossing his arms again and looking away. “I thought I knew, but you left me.”  

The sound of a shaky sigh comes from Matsukawa.

“Can I please take you down to see Yuda? If nothing else, let me help you fix your leg.”

Hanamaki doesn’t respond. He doesn’t want to do anything for him right now.

“Please, ‘Hiro.”

 _Goddamnit._ Matsukawa’s voice cracks with pain, but when Hanamaki looks back at him his tears are under control, face blank. As much as Hanamaki doesn’t want to admit it, the poker face kills him. The hurt and betrayal is being washed away by a feeling of love and he hates it right now. Right now he wants to be mad. Hanamaki’s tired and confused and hurt and everything is just _too much._ That’s usually when he lets Matsukawa decide what to do.

All Hanamaki wants to do is go back to their bed and pretend he hasn’t woken up yet, pretend that he doesn’t know someone he cares about is dead and their friend did it. He wants to sleep but his leg is killing him and his mind is full of so many things that he can’t put it all together.

Hanamaki grunts and shift forward as an assent to the question. Matsukawa gets up and moves forward to support him. Hanamaki can’t help but shift away from him a little, too confused to really want the touch right now.

“Stop being difficult. I’m trying to help you.” Matsukawa tugs Hanamaki’s arm more firmly around him and lifts him into standing.

“ _You’re_ being difficult,” Hanamaki mutters, vision swimming with tears and pain.

Matsukawa just takes a deep breath and helps him out of the room.

 

* * *

 

Yuda must have been expecting them, because he ushers them into his small house in the courtyard and gets to work the moment they get there.

“Alright, you first Matsukawa-san.” Yuda beckons him closer and it makes his mage’s robe billow a little.

Matsukawa frowns, glancing at Hanamaki, who doesn’t want to look at his lover right now, so he looks away.

“I’m not the one with the broken leg, though.”

“Exactly. I can get you over and done with quickly and then divert all of my attention to Hanamaki-san without worrying about you.”

It’s just the kind of thing that would relax Matsukawa, doing things because it would make Hanamaki safer. It appears to work, too, and Hanamaki feels even more confusion and hurt whirl around in his head.

Yuda mutters to himself in that way mages do while lightly drawing his hands over the cut on Matsukawa’s jaw. Then he brings his hands down to Matsukawa’s chest for a few moments.

Hanamaki watches as Matsukawa’s eyelids flutter a little with the intake of magic. He looks calm and at peace to any outside observer but Hanamaki can see the slight purse to his lips and the tension in his shoulders that give away his internal struggle.

It only heightens his own struggle.

“Alright, good. I could feel the few cuts on your arms and the one on your back, which you should probably have the medic put a bandage on, but there’s no infection. I’m not going to heal your scratches because, frankly, I’ve got more important things to put my magic towards right now.”

After Matsukawa gives him a nod, Yuda turns to Hanamaki.

Hanamaki has to force himself not to flinch when Yuda’s attention settles on him. He’s suddenly swept away by the horrible possibility that Yuda can sense his broken thoughts just as easily as his broken leg.

If he can, Yuda pays no attention to them. He goes straight to work on Hanamaki’s leg, tenderly sliding his hands underneath his calf so he can hold it right where it’s broken, making him grit his teeth. The sparks of magic just feel exploratory at first, tingling around his lower leg and sweeping in and out of the break without a lot of discomfort.

Without warning him, Yuda jumps into the actual healing and the tingling sparks suddenly burn at and around the wound and Hanamaki yells. He grips the edges of the bed to avoid ripping Yuda off of him reflexively.

Flashes of darkness and screaming invade Hanamaki’s consciousness. He’s being dragged by the pain in his leg, back to where he leaned against the rock, desperately trying to help Kyoutani fight off the creatures they couldn’t see.

Matsukawa is at his side instantly, holding Hanamaki by his shoulders tightly, and despite the emotional hurt still piercing his thoughts, Matsukawa’s familiar presence reminds him that he’s safe. He can’t bring himself to push Matsukawa away but it’s second nature to berate himself for the mental reaction to pain. Hanamaki may be in pain but he’s with their mage being _healed_ for god’s sake. Not for the first time, Hanamaki wishes he had the capability to slap some sense into himself.

The moment Yuda finishes and the pain fades, Hanamaki shrugs off Matsukawa’s touch. He doesn’t want to be tempted to just.. crawl into his arms again, tempted to just beg him to explain why he left him. Everything in him feels broken down and this is usually the time that he would crawl into Matsukawa’s arms to rebuild himself but now… there’s nowhere to go.

Yuda wipes his hands together. “You should be good now. It might be tender for a couple hours, but you should be good to walk on it by the end of the day.” He stands up and walks over to a basin in the corner of the room to wash his hands. “I checked you for infection but you’re good too. Whoever your medic was, he did a good job, _especially_ considering how disgustingly filthy you two are right now. Take a bath, already.” Yuda meets their eyes gravely. “Do it for the people around you if not for yourselves.”

Hanamaki knows he would normally laugh and snip back at him. He knows he would but he can’t bring himself to do it right now. Matsukawa doesn’t say anything either and it leaves the small house eerily quiet. Yuda looks between them like he’s just found a huge injury that he didn’t notice before.

“Are you two alright? Other than the physical I mean.”

Matsukawa appears preoccupied with feeling the cut on his face, and Hanamaki knows he won’t respond. That leaves any sort of explanation up to him, but honestly, he doesn’t want nor have the energy to give it.

“No, we’re fine. Just tired and like you said, gross.” Hanamaki moves to stand up and tentatively puts weight on his newly healed leg. It feels a little tender but not the piercing, throbbing pain from before.

“Thanks, Yuda. You work wonders.” Hanamaki walks out of the small house without a look back, assuming Matsukawa will follow.

 

* * *

 

They’ve barely walked in the castle’s entryway when they run into Yahaba and Kyoutani heading out.

“I’m _fine_ , Shigeru.” Kyoutani looks grumpy, but he’s not really protesting Yahaba’s rough dragging. It might just be because he’s exhausted, Hanamaki knows first hand just how hard he fought yesterday. Surprisingly though, Yahaba looks twice as tired if his horrible posture and swollen eyes are anything to go by.

When the other two see them, Yahaba stops short. “Hanamaki-san, Matsukawa-san,” he greets.

Matsukawa doesn’t respond and maybe Hanamaki _is_ trying to avoid him, but he’s still surprised when he only just now realizes how stiff he is beside him.

“Yahaba,” Hanamaki acknowledges. Matsukawa doesn’t say anything.

Yahaba stops for a moment, frowning at Matsukawa, convincing Hanamaki that there’s something going on there. Kyoutani stops, too, and he and Matsukawa stop reflexively, thinking something is going to be said.

Instead, there’s a long silence only interrupted by a breeze coming in the entryway behind them.

Hanamaki still stands stiffly, seeing how close Matsukawa is, but he’s also confused and inching towards incredibly uncomfortable. Kyoutani doesn’t seem any more enlightened than he is, that is if the frowning and glancing between them all is anything to go by.

Frankly, Hanamaki does not want to be stuck in this horrible silent entryway forever. He wants to go back to bed. Now, preferably. That just means he’s going to have to be the one to break the silence if he wants to go anywhere.

“Hey, Kyou.”

Kyoutani glares at him, probably hoping for answers or maybe just a way out of the situation like he is. It reminds Hanamaki of when he’d told Kyoutani to go with the others further into the trees but Kyoutani had just glared at him like he expected Hanamaki to be smarter than that. It’s an odd look, but since Kyoutani had gone on to save his life all night long– he’s got to throw him a bone.

“Thanks for having my back yesterday.”

It’s only after the words leave his mouth that he realizes how that might have sounded to Matsukawa. Ungrateful and petty and horrible. Hanamaki steels himself and repeats in his head that he doesn’t care.

Kyoutani grunts and nods, folding his arms over his chest.

“Yes,” Yahaba says. “That’s why we’re headed out. I refuse to believe that he was covered in all that shit and didn’t get one single injury. We’ve never had that kind of luck, so I’m going to have Yuda look him over.”

“Sounds good.” Hanamaki tries to say it evenly. He’s not sure if he succeeds, though, because Matsukawa’s silent presence just keeps growing behind him.

“I still think it’s a waste of time,” Kyoutani grumbles.

“Yes, well,” Yahaba firmly grabs his arm, “good thing I’m still your commanding officer so I can tell you to get checked out and you have to do it.”

Yahaba leads the still grumbling Kyoutani past them and presumably out toward Yuda’s.

The other two stand there, again in silence, for long moments.

“What was that.”

A pause.

“I’ll tell you but I’d rather not here.”

This time, it’s Hanamaki that pauses, considering if he really cares at all.

Of course he does.

“Fine.”

Hanamaki leads the way back to their rooms, cringing at the new pressure on his freshly healed bone when they climb the stairs. When they reach their room, he immediately walks to the bed and falls on it.

Matsukawa follows him and stands over the bed looking down at him, expression unreadable. Hanamaki just stares back at him, half waiting for an explanation about what happened in the hallway and half expecting Matsukawa to go back to what they were talking about before they went to see Yuda.

Slowly, Matsukawa reaches for Hanamaki’s hand and as much as Hanamaki wants to refuse it, he’s also tired of trying to fight against the overwhelming urge to crumple into his familiar arms. He lets Matsukawa gently lace their fingers together, still staring at his stony face.

Matsukawa’s eye have drifted to where their hands are laced and as he sits down on the edge of the bed, still slow and gentle, he continues to stare at the point of contact. There’s a soft moment where Hanamaki just stares at him staring at their hands and in that moment the sun comes out from behind a cloud and brightens the room considerably.

Hanamaki desperately wishes that it’s a sign.

“During the fight,” Matsukawa starts haltingly, “when I saw Watari come running back, I… I wanted to find you then. Even as I was being pummeled and obviously wouldn’t be able to get anywhere, I tried to head that direction. I wanted to fight next to you, like we always have. I felt weird and exposed without you fighting next to me.”

Despite the fact that Matsukawa is still looking at their hands, Hanamaki slowly nods. He understands that. Years of training together had left them with an intuitive understanding of each other’s movements, flawlessly entwining their offense and defense with deadly precision. They had understood the need to be apart during the fight, but that didn’t mean that they had been happy with it.

“When I started fighting towards where I’d seen Watari–” Matsukawa closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Yahaba stopped me.”

Hanamaki frowns.

Opening his eyes, Matsukawa finally looks at him. “Yahaba stopped me from going to you. He told me I was needed there, and I knew he was right and that you could handle yourself. I couldn’t help but worry, though. I was scared for you.”

Matsukawa squeezes his hand and Hanamaki squeezes it back without a second thought. He can feel something twisty and warm growing in his chest. It floods his eyes with unshed tears and Hanamaki can see Matsukawa’s own eyes slowly filling.

“Then… after it was over, and I was searching for you for what seemed like forever, I just..” Matsukawa closes his eyes and twin tears fall down his cheeks. “I couldn’t help but think that if Yahaba hadn’t stopped me, you’d still be alive. After hours of looking I really thought the only reason I hadn’t found you was because you were dead.” Matsukawa’s voice trails off, remembering.

Hanamaki feels his own tears overflow and he swallows.

“I’m not mad at Yahaba.” Matsukawa says, and Hanamaki almost calls bullshit because he clearly just witnessed it and Matsukawa had basically just _said_ it, but then he continues. “I’m furious with myself. I should have told Yahaba to go fuck himself. I should have gone to you anyway. I was so, _so_ scared, Hiro.”

Matsukawa’s voice breaks, but he manages to choke out one last thing. “I would _never_ leave you there, Takahiro.” He leans down and rests his forehead against Hanamaki’s. “I love you so much.”

A sob manages to rip its way out of Hanamaki’s throat and then he’s crying in earnest. Quickly Hanamaki wraps his arms around Matsukawa and drags him down onto the bed with him so he can wrap his legs around him too. Matsukawa returns the embrace and they bury their faces in each others’ shoulders. Hanamaki sobs horribly into his shirt, finally feeling somewhat alright now that he’s back in Matsukawa’s arms.

Matsukawa pulls his head back enough to start pressing kisses over Hanamaki’s forehead. Their wet cheeks stick and rub together several times, but Hanamaki has never felt so connected and content.

Somewhere… deep down in Hanamaki’s subconscious… he knows that Matsukawa would never ever _ever_ leave him. Even the slightest possibility, though, and Hanamaki feels shaken to his very core, terrified about something beyond his control.

But he didn’t. Matsukawa didn’t leave him. Issei didn’t leave him.

Of course he didn’t.

Issei loves him.

 

* * *

 

“Do you think we should go check on him?”

Hanamaki asks this quietly into the washroom air, not wanting to disturb the peace that they’ve created. Matsukawa pulls him back tighter against his chest, sloshing water around the tub.

“I think we have to. No one else can.”

Hanamaki knows. The four of them had been together for… so long. He’s lost track of the years.  They all know and trust each other more than anyone else. They’ve trained together, fought together, mourned together. It hasn’t hit him yet that one of them is just… _gone._

“Okay.”

They lapse back into silence, each lost in their own thoughts. After a while they climb out and towel each other down, Hanamaki taking a moment to hold Matsukawa. Then they get dressed and head towards the most familiar part of the castle.

They’d run these stairs as children, then nervously scampered as pages, and finally walked them confidently as knights. They’d played hide and seek in these rooms and later made battle plans in them. They know every inch of the part of the castle.

Yet… it had never felt as foreign as it did now.

Despite the sun shining in a couple of windows they pass, the air between them feels thick and heavy, like this is the last time they might actually bear witness to the light.

Approaching the door at the end of the hallway brought more pain with each step, thoughts revolving around the broken man they would find. Only the thought that they were the only ones he keeping them upright.

Reaching the door, they share a quick look, solidifying themselves and using it as a reminder that they will support each other as well as their friend through this. Then Matsukawa swings the door open and Hanamaki braces himself for whatever scene of devastation they’re going to find beyond the door.

“Iwaizumi?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i'm going to be continuing this into a longfic that i'm super excited about! it will be focused on 4 pairings as well as some extra characters who join in along the way
> 
> leave a good ol' comment below if you feel so inclined~ i'm really proud of this

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://fxvixen.tumblr.com/)


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